The Quest for High Quality Fabric
by Hyper Deathray
Summary: Kon is a pervert with no moral scruples. Ishida’s sexuality begins to manifest itself. Their mutual target: Inoue Orihime!


**The Quest for High Quality Fabric**

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**Disclaimer:** Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite, not me, although I doubt he would've dreamed of what you're about to read.

**Rating: **PG-13

Summary: Kon is a pervert with no moral scruples. Ishida's sexuality manifests itself in a bizarre way. Their mutual target: Inoue Orihime! Kon, Ishida, unmentionables 

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_Just a little bit more,_ Kon thought as he climbed, his stubby plushie fingers grasping the edge of his target. With one last mighty push, our hero finally propelled himself over the edge and fell, right into Inoue Orihime's laundry basket.

Kon took a minute to congratulate himself on literally reaching the land of milk and honey. Well, of _milk_ anyway.

_Let's see_, he thought as he dug through layer after fragrant layer of treasures belonging to his Goddess. _What color do I want? Red? So naughty. Or black, sexy and a classic._ As Kon continued to debate the merits of both colors, he suddenly heard the sound of approaching footsteps over the background voices of conversation from downstairs.

_Oh shit_, Kon thought frantically, as he struggled to bury himself under his newly acquired hoard. _Ichigo is going to kill me, and if not him, nee-san_. Kon shuddered as he thought of what Rukia would do to him if he were caught. The footfalls became louder and louder.

"Oh, it's just you". Kon said in relief as a figure revealed itself as his partner-in-crime.

"Aren't you done yet?" The other man asked irritably. "Everyone's leaving, hurry up."

"Just a minute," Kon replied. "I just can't decide. Black or red?"

"We don't have time for this." The other man growled. "I only let you up here to pick as a courtesy, not so you can be a liability to both of us. Oh, never mind, just take both." He quickly reached into the basket and grabbed his plushie accomplice, and they both made their escape.

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"Eh?" Ichigo muttered dumbly while staring at the Ishida-proclaimed "new and improved" Kon. _This is new and improved, Ishida? This is what you've been trying to do to him since forever. But that's not what's surprising._ "And you agreed to this?" Ichigo suspiciously asked Kon, who didn't seem to protest his new look at all.

"That's right, Ichigo." Kon replied with a happy face. "Don't you think I look really cute in this?" Kon then held up the wide hem of his new black dress with both arms at his side and twirled a few times for Ichigo, as if he was trying to show off his…assets.

"Ummm," Ichigo said, looking as if Kon had just told him that the universe revolved around Keigo's head. "No." _I swear there's something fishy about this._ "Ishida, what did you do?"

"What are you talking about, Kurosaki?" Ishida answered him with a straight face. "Kon approached me the other day and said that Yazu tore him up a little while playing and wanted me to fix it. I simply did the best job I could and as you can see, Kon is pleased by my efforts. His sense of fashion is great."

"Is that so," Ichigo remarked dubiously while he moved closer to Kon, as if hoping to find some find of clue on the little lace flower patterns of Kon's new red and black dress. "I still don't get it. And what's that smell?"

"Smell, Kurosaki? What are you talking about? That dress is nothing but ordinary fabric; cotton, polyester, and lace."

"Yeah, okay." Ichigo answered, losing interest. If Kon wanted to dress like that, that's his business. Besides, Yazu would _love_ it. Still, there was no way that he would let himself be caught dead with Kon looking like _that_. "Do me a favor, Ishida, and put him back in my room, would you?" And Ichigo left the two and headed home, _without_ a huge potential embarrassment.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime greeted cheerfully as she spotted Ichigo in the hallway. "Are you going home?"

"Yeah." Ichigo repied nonchalantly. Like most fifteen-year-old boys, his eyes wondered to Inoue's balloon-like chest, just for a second. Then he caught a whiff of her perfume. Suddenly, it was as if a little hamster inside Ichigo's brain started spinning around its wheel furiously, generating a great freaking light bulb of a revelation.

"_That's right, Ichigo." Kon replied with a happy face. "Don't you think I look really cute in this?"_

"_I still don't get it. And what's that smell?" _

"_Smell, Kurosaki? What are you talking about? That dress is nothing but ordinary fabric; cotton, polyester, and lace."_

_Black and red dress. Cute. Lace. Smell. Inoue's smell. _Ichigo's mind pieced these facts together; leaving him with something that he wished he hadn't just thought of. Unfortunately, it was seared into his brain at that point, the fact that…that…Ishida…

"Hey, Kurosaki-kun," Inoue asked with worry in her voice. "Are you all right? Your face looks a little red."

"Oh it's n-nothing! Nothing at all." Ichigo lied nervously. _Don't think about it_, he told himself. Again his eyes went to Inoue's breasts. _I said DON'T think about it, dumbass! _"Anyway, I'll sme-, _see_ you tomorrow. Bye!"

"Wha…" Inoue mumbled to herself as she watched dumbfounded as Ichigo quickly stomped away, like he really needed to go to the bathroom or something. "Was it something I said?"

Students to the left and right of Ichigo watched as walked past them in a hurry, some of them wondering if he was stoned. After all, for once Ichigo's face actually wasn't frowning. Instead, his face looked as if he had just been punched in the gut, while being told that…well, that Ishida Uyruu was…a perverted seamstress. And has a fetish for…for sewing little dresses with women's lingerie.

The thought was horrifying and yet hilariously funny at the same time.

And his partner was Kon? _Great fashion sense my ass_, Ichigo thought with a smirk. _They're both just perverts._

_Heh, real cute. Ishida and Kon. Quincy and plushie. Partners in crime. _Now that he thought about it, it wasn't horrifying anymore. _Cotton, polyester, and lace, eh?_

It was just hilariously funny.

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Meanwhile…

_I don't get it, _Inoue thought, as she brought her breasts with both hands up to her face and sniffed.

_Do my breasts smell?_ She wondered. Clueless.

**End**


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